


Friday Night

by alley_oops, jennandanica



Series: Citadel: Alfonso Herrera/Christos Vasilopoulos [6]
Category: Actor RPF, Banshee (TV) RPF, Citadel (Journalfen RPG), Greek Actor RPF, Mexican Actor RPF, Sense8 (TV) RPF, The Exorcist (TV) RPF
Genre: BDSM, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-20
Updated: 2018-06-20
Packaged: 2019-05-26 02:28:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,148
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14990768
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alley_oops/pseuds/alley_oops, https://archiveofourown.org/users/jennandanica/pseuds/jennandanica
Summary: This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Alfonso Herrera/Christos Vasilopoulos storyline in the BDSM RPS RPGCitadel.This is a new log and has not previously been posted to the game.In game, Alfonso is played as the actor with his IMDb filmography intact (but never married and with no kids) and Christos is played AU as working for AU Antony Starr's company and as bodyguard/personal assistant to Stephen Amell. Antony and Stephen are a couple as well and you can find their SL archived under my series.Warning for possibly mutilated Spanish (my apologies in advance to any native or bilingual speakers. Feel free to correct me in comments.





	Friday Night

**Author's Note:**

> This is a re-posting (archiving) of all logs for the Alfonso Herrera/Christos Vasilopoulos storyline in the BDSM RPS RPG [Citadel](http://citadel.dreamwidth.org/read).
> 
> This is a new log and has not previously been posted to the game.
> 
> In game, Alfonso is played as the actor with his IMDb filmography intact (but never married and with no kids) and Christos is played AU as working for AU Antony Starr's company and as bodyguard/personal assistant to Stephen Amell. Antony and Stephen are a couple as well and you can find their SL archived under my series.
> 
> _Warning for possibly mutilated Spanish (my apologies in advance to any native or bilingual speakers. Feel free to correct me in comments._

For what seems like the millionth time, Alfonso glances at his watch, calculating when Christos's flight will have gotten in, how long through customs, the drive with traffic, coming up with the same answer over and over - that he won't be there to greet the man. Damnit. At least he had the foresight to leave a key with the concierge and hopefully Christos will take his note to heart and make himself at home.

It's with disappointment that Christos arrives alone at Alfonso's building, but he certainly understands the vagaries of an actor's schedule. He lets himself into Alfonso's home and immediately looks around, though he stops short of poking through his drawers. Leaning over the railing of the balcony, he can see Stanley Park at one end of the street, and a corner grocery at the other. He decides to go for a walk. 

In thirty minutes he has mushrooms and chicken braising in a dry burgundy, and he's dicing pancetta to add to the pan. Alfonso did say to make himself at home.

Alfonso walks through the door roughly an hour after Cit let him know Christos had been dropped off. He's tired, he's hungry, he's a little grumpy as the result of both but he's excited at the prospect of seeing Christos again, of having the man here for a whole weekend. He's fairly certain Christos hasn't eaten either and they'll probably have to go back out or order something in from his massive collection of delivery menus. Heart beating a little more rapidly, he unlocks his front door and steps inside, the scent of cooking, actual _cooking_ flooding his nostrils. He groans, stomach grumbling on cue and calls out, "I'm home. Are you cooking?" Praying that it's so.

"Yeah. I hope you're hungry," Christos answers, stepping out of the mosaic galley kitchen. God, Alfonso himself looks good enough to eat, and awareness slams into him that, yeah, he _really_ missed him. Crossing the foyer, he wraps Alfonso in his embrace for a deep kiss.

Anything Alfonso might have said gets lost momentarily in that kiss. Christos looks fantastic and he feels even better. Smiling when they draw back, Alfonso can't help blushing a little. "I'm starving," he says. "And in case it wasn't obvious by my kitchen, I don't cook. I usually order in or eat picnic style." He pauses for a second, staring at Christos. "I'm so glad you're here. What are you making?"

"Coq au vin. I hope you like mushrooms." Christos takes Alfonso's hand and leads him to the table. "I like to cook, but it's no fun doing it for just one. I'm glad you gave me the excuse." He flashes a grin at the man, then gives their meal a stir. "We can eat whenever you're ready."

"Now, please," Alfonso says, grinning back. "I am starving and that smells so good. Can I help with anything?" Amazed Christos has already set the table as well. "I have more wine."

"Perfect. Get me drunk and I'll give you anything you want." Christos searches through drawers until he finds a trivet for the table. He's not usually so... so _giddy_. Of course, he doesn't usually have reason to be, either. He finds a good serving dish, then sets a plate full of food before Alfonso.

"Mm. It looks as good as it smells," Alfonso says, unable to help himself from digging in, his stomach already soft rumbling. "Mmmm. And tastes even better." His eyes widening. "Dios. Where did you learn to cook?"

"The Marines," Christos informs him blandly.

Alfonso remembers Christos mentioning the Marines before but he's still stuck on this one. "How?"

Christos grins. "I'm joking. But that sounds tougher than the truth, which is that I sent myself to cooking school. See, my parents split up when I was young, and my father couldn't cook for shit," he explains, sipping at his wine. "We grew up eating a lot of butter sandwiches. Once I was grown, I was really tired of eating that way."

Alfonso nods. "I'll bet," he says, admitting, "Whereas I don't cook at all. I can manage eggs if I need to, pasta, but that's it."

"What a match," Christos chuckles. "This is better for you than take-out," he says, laying another piece of chicken on Alfonso's plate. It's probably silly to get such a thrill out of feeding him, but nevertheless. "How was your day on set?"

"It was great," Alfonso says, making appreciative noises as he eats. "I love this show and the cast... and our director... I've been very lucky in my career. I've yet to have a job that I hated."

"That is great. And every time, it just sets you up in a better position so that, if you ever do have a job you hate, you won't have to keep it." Finishing off the last of his mushrooms, Christos sits back with his wine, relishing the freedom and relaxation of the moment. And he switches tack. "Is your ass sore?"

"No, why?" Alfonso says, taking a sip of wine, almost done with his meal as well.

Christos clutches his chest dramatically. "That hurts my heart. Here I've been thinking of you squirming around for days..." He laughs.

"I was on Monday," Alfonso protests. "And a bit on Tuesday." Laughing as well.

"Ah, that's better." Christos flashes him a grin. "Dessert is vanilla meringue with strawberries. I forgot to ask if you're allergic to anything."

Alfonso blinks at him. "You made dessert too?" He grins. "Can I keep you?" Not even thinking about how that sounds.

"As your personal chef? There's a career I've never tried," Christos chuckles, skipping right past any awkwardness. He clears their plates and ducks into the kitchen. "It'll be just a minute," he calls back. "The right presentation takes time."

Alfonso calls back, "Take your time. I'm feeling very spoiled right now."

Christos grins at that. "I like spoiling you," he says, dropping a kiss onto Alfonso's lips when he sets his plate down. 

Alfonso's still beaming at the kiss when he takes a look at the dessert and his jaw drops. "Wow. If you ever do retire, you could easily have a second career," he says softly, shaking his head.

Chuckling, Christos licks a flick of whipped cream from his finger. "What would you do if you weren't an actor?"

"That's a good question," Alfonso says, eyes on Christos's mouth. "I told you I wanted to be a firefighter when I was a kid, and at one point, I might have said a singer. Now? A pilot, maybe, or a soccer player."

"Have you thought about getting your private pilot's license?" Christos asks, spearing a strawberry on his fork. "You know, in all of your spare time."

Alfonso laughs. "In all of my spare time this year I'm doing The Dead Poet's Society on stage in Mexico City," he says, digging into the dessert. "But maybe some day."

"That's theater?" Christos hazards a guess. "I've seen the movie. Will you be the inspiring teacher?" he asks, offering a bite of meringue.

Alfonso takes the bite, moaning softly before nodding. "That's me. I've got big shoes to fill."

"You'll be amazing," Christos decides, saying it like it's a done deal. "I have faith in you." He scoops up some whipped cream on his finger and smears it over Alfonso's lips.

Alfonso's tongue darts out to lick the cream from Christos's finger, then his lips, eyes locked on the other man's, his heart suddenly beating fast in his chest.

Slowly Christos drags his finger through the dessert, then offers it again.

Alfonso's cock gives a sharp jerk, starting to fill, and he struggles to keep his eyes fully open this time, his mouth wrapped around Christos's finger, sucking the cream from his skin.

Tingles of sensation dance along Christos's spine. He traces his fingertips around the shape of Alfonso's lips, then sits back. "Go in my bag and find your gift."

"You mean dinner and dessert wasn't it?" Alfonso says, unable to help himself.

"Not even close. That was just food." Christos grins fleetingly, but his eyes are dark and serious. "I want you to be my toy this weekend."

"The whole weekend?" Alfonso asks, because they haven't really talked about any of this.

"Two days. Yes." Christos eases up his posture, consciously working to not put pressure on. This decision must be all Alfonso's. "You can always say no, at any time."

"Will we go out at all?" Alfonso hadn't bargained on them spending the entire time in his place.

"Sure. Wherever you want." Christos is glad Alfonso's asking questions, but he's having a tough time gauging whether the man actually has any interest in the idea. Did he misstep?

"And when we're out, we're just us, we're not in any kind of role?" Alfonso just wants to be clear.

"You'll be mine, I'll be yours... I hope that would be the case anyway while I'm visiting you," Christos replies.

"Okay." Alfonso smiles, breathing a small sigh of relief. "I'm sorry for all the questions. In case you can't tell, I haven't done this much," he says softly, reaching out to run his fingers over the back of Christos's hand. "Can I go and get my present now?"

Christos smiles and catches his fingers for a squeeze. "Please do."

Grinning, Alfonso goes looking for Christos's bag, easily finding the small box wrapped in royal blue silk in the first compartment. He brings it back to the table, fingers itching to open it. "May I?"

"Yeah." Christos looks up from the sink where he's stacking their dirty dishes with a smile.

Alfonso unwraps the package, carefully opening the box, his eyes widening at the sight of the nipple clamps with weights attached. "That's two toys you've got me now," he says softly.

"I asked you to be my toy," Christos reminds him, and a wolfish grin spreads across his face. "I assure you, these are gifts for me."

"Uh huh." Alfonso eyes Christos and that grin. "Should I be scared?"

Christos chuckles, fighting an urge to simply say _yes_ \-- they really don't know each other that well yet. And he's not foolhardy. Fuck, no, he wants to get laid. "If it turns you on," he says instead, drying his hands and crossing the small room to take Alfonso into his arms and kiss him deeply. He can feel the heat of his body through their clothing, and it's intoxicating.

Moaning softly into the kiss, Alfonso wraps his arms around Christos's neck and gives himself over. It only now really striking him that yes, he wants to be this man's toy.

"Go into the bedroom," Christos whispers into the kiss, "and take your clothes off. I'll take your present." Oh yeah, he's got plans.

Alfonso smiles a shy smile and eases out of Christos's embrace, glancing over his shoulder before he makes his way down the hall to his bedroom, his clothes shed and draped over the chair in the corner of the room.

That glance back ties Christos in knots, and he only half stifles his groan of response. He drinks in the sight of Alfonso's naked body, then locks eyes with him as he slowly pulls his belt from its loops.

"Do you want me to lie down?" Alfonso asks, his cock bobbing eagerly in front of him, every nerve in his body aware of how he's being watched, devoured even.

"No. I want you to prep for me. Like I'm not here, and you're thinking about me sliding my cock into you." Christos drags his shirt off.

Dios. Alfonso stares for a minute before moving. "Can I kneel on the bed?" he asks, fetching a tube of lubricant from the nightstand as well as a couple of condoms which he sets on top within easy reach.

"Yes." Christos smiles at the number of condoms. Apparently Alfonso has plans for the night, as well.

Getting on the bed, Alfonso settles on his knees in the centre, looking over his shoulder at Christos as he slicks his fingers with lube. 

Christos nods his approval and drops his trousers, beginning to stroke himself as he watches.

A small whimper tumbles from Alfonso's lips at the sight but he doesn't falter, pushing two fingers inside himself, in and out, fucking himself open.

Watching him, Christos dares to ask the question that has been burning a path through his mind. "Have you been thinking about me?"

"Si," Alfonso nods, already working a third finger inside himself. "You made me flub my lines."

"Good." Christos grins widely, delighted. "I daydreamed about you. About doing this." He steps up behind and takes Alfonso's wrists, looping his leather belt around them, between them. Binding his hands before he lies down and tears open a condom.

The leather tightening against his skin draws another moan from Alfonso's lips, his cock bobbing in front of him, wet at its tip. He watches Christos with wide eyes, his hole fluttering, aching to have the man inside him.

Christos unrolls the rubber into place and grasps Alfonso's hips, steadying him. Guiding him to straddle and pulling him down to spear himself on his cock.

"Oh, fuck," Alfonso breathes, eyes half-closing, his head tilted back as he's penetrated, savouring being filled so perfectly.

"Yes. That's it," Christos whispers, watching his face. He rocks his hips slowly, letting Alfonso take him all the way in at his own pace. Then he leans up and sucks on one of his nipples.

Alfonso whimpers, unable to help himself, his cock steadily leaking now. He curses under his breath, the words in his mother tongue, his eyes heavy-lidded as he looks down at Christos. "Your cock feels so good."

Christos smirks a little before turning his attention to the other nipple. Then he lies back once more, gritting his teeth against the hot tight clutch of Alfonso's ass. "Be still now," he says, and opens the Citadel gift box. Lifts the first clamp, and attaches its weight.

Alfonso doesn't know how but he'd forgotten all about the clamps and the weights. Apparently looking at Christos naked had completely scrambled his brain. But he remembers now, crying out softly with the bite of the first clamp and again as the weight's added. Damn. It's been a while since he really had his nipples tormented.

"Good," Christos says gruffly, lust rushing through him. The second clamp in place, he attaches the weight, then slips his hands over Alfonso's hips once more. "You know what to do."

Alfonso nods, starting to move on Christos, his cock bobbing as he rides him, slowly but steadily.

Christos rocks up into him, once, just to feel that amazing sensation of being buried so completely inside another person. A faint smile toys at his lips. "What do you think?"

"Of your cock or the clamps?" Alfonso teases, smiling, his whole body aching with arousal.

"The clamps," Christos answers with a snicker. Reaching up, he sets one weight swinging with a nudge of his fingertip.

Alfonso moans, biting his lower lip, his cock jerking sharply. "They're good," he gets out when he can, the words wholly inadequate.

Christos grins and arches into him with a groan of pleasure. "Now speed up."

Gladly. Alfonso groans and starts riding Christos as hard as he can, every downward drop spilling another moan from his lips, the weights and the fullness inside him making his head swim. "Oh, fuck..."

That's it. Christos wraps his hands around Alfonso's cheeks and spreads his ass open wider, driving up into him. So fucking aroused by the look on the man's face, the way the weights drag his nipples into a stretch and Alfonso just _takes_ it, takes even more. So fucking good. "I'm close," he grates out, flying towards the edge.

"Por favor," Alfonso begs, struggling to keep his balance, his whole body on fire with his arousal. "Please..."

"With me," Christos orders, digging his fingertips into smooth flesh. "Now!" Pleasure rockets through him and he empties into the rubber, pounding deep inside his lover.

But Alfonso can't. Not like this. Not with his hands behind his back and no touch to his cock. "Your hand, please," he begs. He won't need much but he needs that last bit of sensation to reach his climax.

Reminded, Christos grabs his cock and swiftly jerks it.

Alfonso cries out, pleasure washing over him, his cock spurting thick strands of white. "Oh, fuck, thank you," he moans.

Lifting his head, Christos looks at where Alfonso has painted him, and he moans in turn. "Good boy," he murmurs, drawing his finger through the sticky fluid. Going cold in an instant when he realizes he just broke one of the man's rules. "Let me help you," he says, sitting up to work the belt off Alfonso's wrists.

Good boy. Alfonso stiffens at the words but he lets Christos free him, rubbing at his wrists.

"Sorry about the boy," Christos says quietly, searching Alfonso's face. "I meant it only as approval."

"I know," Alfonso says, shifting from Christos to sit on the bed. "It's my own personal thing. I don't like the word. I never have."

"Okay. I'll try to make sure it doesn't happen again." Already Christos is working to imprint the notion onto his brain, so that he never again has to feel this sinking in the pit of his stomach. Reaching out, he lightly strokes Alfonso's cheek. "You were wonderful."

"Thank you, so were you," Alfonso says, tilting his head into the touch.

Alfonso's skin is soft and smooth above light stubble, and idly Christos wonders if the man would be willing to rim him, so he could feel the full effects of that stubble on tender flesh. "Can you tell me what it is about the word that bothers you so much?"

Alfonso blows out a breath. "Let's get comfortable," he says, watching Christos get rid of the condom and letting the man lie back before snuggling in, a good part of him not really wanting to have this discussion. Wondering if it will put an end to their burgeoning... whatever this is.

Slipping his arms around the other man, Christos sighs softly, starting to play with Alfonso's hair. He didn't know just how uncomfortable they were, and he regrets pressing for details. He's got no right.

"It's stupid," Alfonso says finally. "There's no big story or trauma or anything. It's just - it's so generic."

It takes a moment for Christos to process just what Alfonso means. He smiles faintly. "You want a special name, just for you?"

Alfonso stills. "That's not what I meant," he blurts out, sudden fear rolling in the pit of his stomach. "I wasn't saying you should come up with something. I," _Dios_ , "I like submitting but I don't like all the trappings that go along with it. With formal submission. I mean, yes, if we, if this," fuck. He tries again. "If we keep going and you wanted to call me something, I would want something special, but I don't expect, I just - I don't like boy."

"Okay. All right. Here," Christos says, nudging Alfonso to lie on his front, and shifting up to straddle him low on his hips. "I really made you nervous just now," he remarks quietly, rubbing the man's shoulders. Seeing whether it dissipates any of the sudden tension in his body.

Willing himself to settle, Alfonso blows out a breath. "It's not you," he confesses. Or not entirely anyway. "I have... complicated feelings about my submission, and I haven't had to deal with them because I haven't been serious with anyone and one night stands don't push." There. Fuck.

Christos chews that over for a long moment, keeping up his slow massage. "Do you want me to stop pushing you?"

"No." Alfonso tenses again before forcing himself to relax. "I didn't think you were pushing me. I just don't like that word and I'm still trying to wrap my head around this, us." Suddenly wishing he hadn't said anything. He probably seems so fucking neurotic Christos'll regret ever having come here.

 _This, us_. Alfonso's anxiety is comforting, in a weird way. Christos figures "this us" must mean _something_ to him, or he wouldn't be so flustered right now. "I'm not sure what I'm feeling yet, if that helps," he confesses softly. "I just know that I like you, and I want to see what there is between us. In the meantime, I enjoy your company." He's not going to get obsessive, anyway; he promised himself he never would again. Plain old sex is safe.

"Me too," Alfonso says, lifting his head. "I'm so glad you're here and I loved what we just did. _And_ ," he blows out another breath, because it's a big 'and', "if you call me boy again, I won't freak. I just want you to try not to."

"I'll try not to," Christos agrees, and knows that he won't make that mistake again. New ones, sure. He ponders how to best phrase his next question. "Is Mexican culture very based on masculinity?" he asks, hoping he got it right. "I mean, one of the reasons I left my father's house was because of how he was when it came to gay men. I had to keep it a secret in the Marines, too." He's curious just what Alfonso meant when he described his submission as complicated.

"It is," Alfonso says, relaxing again, the pillow plumped under his head. "Although homosexuality itself is less a problem then not acting like a man, if you know what I mean?"

"Yes, exactly. It's the same in Greece," Christos replies, dipping down to lick at Alfonso's spine. "They don't understand that your submission is a sign of strength. Or that it's very, very sexy."

Alfonso shivers, a soft moan spilling from his lips. "And my father is like yours. Both things bother him. He wants me married, with children."

Christos nods, and presses the heel of his hand into the small of Alfonso's back. "You're close with your family?"

Another groan. God. Alfonso feels like he's melting into the bed. "With my mother and brother, yes. Not so much my father but I do see him a lot."

Christos grins. "I like your sounds. How does your mother feel about gay men?"

"She just wants me to be happy," Alfonso says, his cheeks heating. "She'd like grandchildren but not for the same reason my father does."

That piques Christos's curiosity. "They want them for different reasons? What?"

"My mother wants them so she can be a grandmother. My father wants them so his family name gets carried on."

"Ah, I see. My father doesn't have that problem because I have brothers. Big, manly ones," Christos says with a curl of his lip. He smooths his hands over Alfonso's back, tracing the musculature beneath his skin. Pleased that at least some of the tension has fled.

"Mm. My brother's a lot younger, still in school, maybe once he's older they'll let up on me," Alfonso says, _thisclose_ to actually purring. "But it's unlikely. My father pinned all his hopes on me. My brother is my mother's child, as he sees it."

Christos shakes his head, trying to make sense of that, and failing. "It sounds like my father and yours could get together for beers," he muses with a low chuckle. "What do you want -- marriage, kids? An Emmy?"

"The last for sure," Alfonso says with a smile, shifting a little under Christos, his cock starting to harden again. "I don't know about the others. You?"

"Nah. I've kind of always seen myself being alone. I have a few good friends who I work with. I've always figured that would be enough to get me by," Christos replies, finishing off with a last rub of Alfonso's neck. He lies down next to him and meets those beautiful dark eyes.

"You've never lived with anyone? Been serious?" Alfonso asks, moving a little closer.

"Serious... yes. But we never lived together. Our relationship went on for years," Christos answers, thinking of Kostas. Taking Alfonso's hand in his. "But for the most part, we were just bad for each other. He would push my buttons... I would let him. It was toxic. What about you?"

Alfonso shakes his head. "Nothing serious. No one live-in." He smiles. "What are your buttons?"

"Baby talk." Christos shudders and rolls his eyes, but then continues more seriously, "Consent. I'm not the guy who's going to throw you against the wall and just ream you open," he explains, watching Alfonso closely. "I'm the guy who's going to ask you politely first."

"So the guy you were with? He pushed that button?" Alfonso asks, confused. "He didn't want polite?"

Christos huffs a laugh. "He definitely didn't want polite. But he also liked to fuck with my head. He'd come onto me when he was high, and then go off on me later that I took advantage of him."

"That's truly fucked up," Alfonso says, shaking his head. "That's one thing I definitely don't do. Mind games. I have some... issues, like we already talked about, but I wouldn't jerk you about, or put you in a position to feel bad about yourself."

Nodding acknowledgment, Christos hesitates a moment. "He was never really my submissive," he says, although Alfonso hasn't come close to asking. "Even when I thought I loved him, I knew I couldn't trust him that much."

"Is that why you stayed with him for so long?" Alfonso asks. "You thought you loved him?"

"That... and our chemistry. The sex was amazing when he wasn't fucking me over," Christos admits. He turns the conversation around. "How have you come this far without gathering up a host of former lovers? Is it because you've been so successful in your career?"

"I don't know about successful but busy," Alfonso allows. "It's been hard for anyone to pin me down and I've gone out of my way to make sure they couldn't."

"Should I consider myself warned?" Christos asks softly, searching his face.

"That's hard for me to answer," Alfonso says almost as softly. "I'm doing my best not to bolt. Seeing you the day after in L.A... having you come here... those are things I don't do, but I like you. I _want_ to see where this goes." And that's the best he can give Christos right now.

Christos nods acceptance. "Thank you for being honest with me," he says, and traces a fingertip over Alfonso's cheekbone. "Let's just enjoy right now." He kisses him, wanting him to know that it's okay, that there's no pressure.

The last of the tension eases from Alfonso's frame and he moans softly into the kiss, licking into Christos's mouth.

This part, this is easy. Christos pulls Alfonso into his arms once more as they kiss, feeling the man go loose and limber against him. Sliding his hand down to cup his ass and squeeze.

Alfonso's breath hitches and his cock starts to fill again, jerking against Christos's thigh.

Christos grins and nibbles along Alfonso's jaw. "Do you know how hot you are?" he asks huskily, his fingers trailing along the cleft of his ass.

"I know how hot you make me feel," Alfonso returns, shifting into that touch. He whimpers, unable to help himself. "I want you inside me again."

Dipping one finger just inside, Christos scrapes his teeth along the column of Alfonso's throat. Then he pulls back and swipes a bottle of lube from the night stand. "I'm happy to cook for you anyway, you know. Any night," he teases, and presses two slick fingers inside his lover's hole.

"Regardless, you mean?" Alfonso starts to say something more but the more Christos touches him, the more his brain just shuts down, his body taking over. "Si, si, mas..."

"Mas," Christos whispers, hooking his fingers to stimulate Alfonso's prostate. He loves how responsive the man is, loves feeling him go pliant and needy against him. Three fingers now, and he fucks them in and out, widening the tight space for his cock. Slipping a rubber into place.

Alfonso whimpers with sheer pleasure. "I want to be on my back," he blurts out. "I want you over me." Between his thighs. Moving into him. Fuck. His cock jerks, spurting another blob of precome.

Christos smiles, all for that plan. He kneels between Alfonso's thighs and rises over him. Pushes inside with a gasp and a groan, need skittering up his spine.

Alfonso rocks his hips up, lifting his legs to wrap them around Christos, pull him in deeper. Fuck. "Si, si," he moans, reaching for the other man, wanting, no, needing to touch him.

"That's good. So good," Christos whispers, his mouth pressed to Alfonso's throat. He lets him touch now, not like their first night together. Trusting more.

Alfonso nods his agreement, hands roaming over Christos's back, his skin, stroking over his ass, urging him on, in, again and again.

Christos soon finds his rhythm, thrusting deeply, his muscles working. He strains and drives inside to the harsh sound of their breathing, letting sensation take him over.

"Ay, dios," Alfonso moans, meeting every thrust, his whole body on fire, filled perfectly over and over. "Si. Oh, god, so good," he murmurs, lifting up to bite at Christos's shoulder.

Christos shudders, groans. And claws himself back from the edge, because he's determined to come second this time. "Touch yourself," he orders, flexing his hands on Alfonso's body. "Come with me."

Alfonso doesn't need to be told twice. He drops a hand between them, wrapping it around his cock, only a couple of strokes managed before he cries out, tumbling over the edge.

"Christ!" His body seizes tight in the instant before Christos floods the rubber, thrusting into the heat of Alfonso's body until the aftershocks begin to recede. Limp now, nearly boneless, he forces himself to pull out but then simply rests his forehead on Alfonso's shoulder for a long moment.

Chest still heaving, Alfonso wraps his arms around Christos, not caring that he's clinging.

Lazily Christos licks a drop of sweat from Alfonso's neck. "That was amazing," he whispers, still feeling weak and wondrous.

Alfonso nods. "Incredible," he whispers back.

Slowly starting to register reality once more, Christos decides that he likes Alfonso clingy. He wonders if maybe the man's body betrays words he's so intent on not saying -- or if that's just himself. "Come," he says softly, shifting to lie on his back and pulling Alfonso to cuddle against his chest.

And Alfonso happily goes, feeling all liquid and boneless and like he should say something more, make plans for tomorrow, the rest of the weekend, but he can't. As mind-blowing as the sex was, somehow, this is even better.


End file.
